


Charade

by AuthorMAGrant



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spy, M/M, give me all the costume changes, originally zine content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14531679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorMAGrant/pseuds/AuthorMAGrant
Summary: My story featured in The Hero and His Soldier Otayuri AU zine. A little bit of spy fun for Yuri and Otabek.





	Charade

**YEAR ONE**

Yuri was mouthiest when he was on sniper duty. Maybe it was the distance that made him feel so safe, maybe it was his complete hatred of boredom. Regardless, it meant Otabek had to field idiot questions like, “So, does this mean you’re actually married?”

“Yuri, shut up.” Otabek finished stuffing the bloodied wedding dress in the dumpster behind the church. Once it was safely out of sight, he checked his borrowed cassock to ensure his gun wasn’t showing, and calmly walked away. Well, as calmly as he could manage with his partner jabbering through their earpieces.

“I mean, you _did_ nod at the _until death do you part_ bit. Is that considered consent?”

It was smarter not to respond.

 “Probably. But I’m a widow now, so it doesn’t matter.”

Smarter, but not as much fun. Yuri’s cackle over the line made him grin, an expression he had to smother quickly as he passed a nun.

He was almost out of earshot when the bellowing and screaming began. He doubted the mafia don predicted his future daughter-in-law would turn on the family in exchange for escape from her groom. It had been easy enough to take her place in the limo, especially in that monstrosity of a dress and veil. It was even easier to kill the bastard when the priest led them to the room in the back of the church where they would sign the official documents. His only regret was having to knock out said priest afterward to steal his clothes.

“I thought you made a lovely bride,” Yuri said.

“You would have looked better in the lace.”

“True. But there’s no way I would have been able to stop myself from blowing his brains out when he grabbed my ass at the altar.”

“Yuri?”

“Yes, Beks?”

“Unless you want me to blow _your_ brains out, we never mention what happened here again.”

Silence. Followed by a smug, “That’s not exactly a deterrent.”

Yeah, not responding was smartest.

*****

**YEAR TWO**

He did his best not to laugh when he tossed a towel to Yuri. The man looked like a drowned kitten. Water pooled at his feet and dripped from his sarong. The strap of his generously padded string bikini top hung askew. His long blond hair—grown out especially for this assignment—clung to his shoulders and collarbone like seaweed.

“Was it really necessary to push me from the yacht?” Yuri asked as he scrubbed himself off.

“I didn’t want you to get accidentally shot.”

“Beks, that was _not_ a gun in his pants.”

He ignored the comment and the strange rush of jealousy it caused and focused on the job. A job he’d derailed when he stopped pretending to be the new cabin boy and shot their target and his guards. “Fine. I didn’t like how he was pawing at you.”

Yuri rolled his eyes and threw the towel at Otabek’s face. “We knew he’d try when we took this mission, idiot. At least it was just the sarong this time.” Which Yuri dropped with flourish, revealing a tiny pair of swimming briefs and a collection of knives strapped to his thighs.

“Then what would you have done?” Otabek asked. “Your cover would have been blown.”

One second, he was standing on the yacht deck; the next, he was on his back, pinned in place with Yuri’s bare foot to his throat, a knife tip brushing his eyelashes.

“I would have done this,” Yuri purred. “Not so complicated, really.”

Otabek let his gaze skim up Yuri’s absurdly smooth leg, higher and higher, until he was positive he’d crossed every line their poor HR rep would be able to think of. Although, dating was already against company policy, so he might as well enjoy this. He waited until he saw the faint flush in Yuri’s cheeks to drawl, “So that’s what Giacometti meant about a waxing appointment.”

Totally worth the stitches in his cheek.

*****

**YEAR THREE**

“We need to get married.”

Otabek choked on his coffee, accidentally spraying Leroy as he walked by. He waved an apology, tried to hack the rest of the beverage from his lungs, and eyed Yuri through newly-sprung tears. “Excuse me?”

The blond grabbed some paper towels and dabbed at the coffee stain on Otabek’s shirt. “Jaquimo Potts runs an investment scheme targeting couples interested in real estate. The money gets funneled into accounts linked to active terrorist groups. Milla got us an appointment. We go in, tell him he can either come with us or have his desiccated corpse found by his landlady when the next rent rolls around, and get out. Twenty minutes or less.”

“How do you expect us to trick him into thinking we’re a married couple?”

Yuri’s grin was positively feral. “I already stole baldy and the piggy’s matching Hawaiian shirts. We just need some socks and Crocs, a pair of rings, and we’re set.”

“Yuri, we don’t _act_ like a married couple.”

“Not according to the office pool.”

That piqued his interest. “Really?”

Yuri nodded and tossed away the towels. “Low odds are we elope on the Monte Carlo trip next month.”

“The high odds?”

“Ji’s holding firm that we’re married within a week. He’ll split the pot 60-40 if we help. It’d be enough for a down payment on your bike.”

Otabek brushed past Yuri and headed toward their office, ignoring the curious stares of the junior agents in the bullpen. “Is Chulanont still ordained?”

“I think so.”

He rooted around in his drawer, tossing the occasional candy wrapper left behind from Yuri’s filching and moving aside random collections of papers. Eventually he found the small box and tossed it to Yuri, who lounged against the doorframe.

He caught it one-handed. “You sure about this?”

“It’s either now or in Monte Carlo, and I want my bike.”

“And me?”

“Obviously, you idiot.”

Yuri grinned and straightened. “Good. Let’s go.”

*****

**YEAR FOUR**

It was a very nice bike.


End file.
